Dear Anyone
by TealishTurtle
Summary: Mathias had written about his past, and the many troubles he had gone through in his journal. (I do not own Hetalia, I only own this fanfiction. Ratings may change later - Many possible relationships - Some (Future) Gore - mentions of past rape - violence - character death - etc. Since this goes through Viking times and (Will go through) the Kalmar Union.)


Dear anyone.

I don't quite remember those days, my memories are a mere blur of what they used to be. In fact, I don't even remember being born into this world. All I remember, was opening my eyes, and seeing snow covered tree's, and a crystal blue sky overhead.

I remember clearly, however. Raping, burning, and pillaging any and all villages that I could find. It's not as if I was the only one, after all, the other Vikings joined me in my 'adventures', but that doesn't make it okay. I regret what I've done, my friends lives haven't been easy, and that's because of what I've done, as a young and naive child.

The other Nordics attempt to pretend that nothing ever happened, though I know the truth. They still remember, and they still feel the physical pain that I had caused them. I'm not one for a huge sob story, however, this is how it'll be, and I've accepted this.

I've always wondered what would happen if a Nation died, I mean several Nations whom are considered dead are still alive. Is it the memories people have from them that keeps them alive? What about their own tracks of land? I've never been completely sure, all I know, is that the world keeps going, even without us. We are simply the chosen 'people' to represent the land, we aren't truly the land itself. I've always known that, just like many others have. If I were to 'die', then someone else would come and take my place, surely. And that thought, is the only thing that is making me stay alive currently. The thought of someone else, being forced to live for an eternity, see endless bloodshed, and endless tears.

For the longest time, I was considered to be the king of northern Europe, and god do I miss that role. But, that's the problem. I became so used to that role, that I became full of myself, which lead to me hurting all of my friends. I regret every day that I had done that, I truly do. But if I were to keep apologising, they might try to leave me… Again.

I'll start from the beginning, when I was just a small child, huddled up for warmth with my dearest friends, Lukas, and Berwald. A roaring fire was in front of us, illuminating the snowy wonderland surrounding our small and fragile bodies. Lukas was rather sick, coughing, and hacking. His fever was beyond what was safe for someone his age, and he was always light-headed. He could hardly even keep his beautiful royal purple eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. Berwald and I were terribly worried about his health, which is why we spent every possible second we could, with him.

Berwald and I never got along the best, but for Lukas' sake, we would get along as best as we could. We would give up our warmth and comfort for him, trying to keep our dearest friend alive for as long as possible.

We couldn't even shed any tears for him, since they felt as if they'd freeze on the spot. We were far too poor to afford any sort of medicines for him, even if the medicines didn't help much. We didn't live near civilization, nor did we even have jobs. To the villagers, we were outcasts, we were different from all of them. But that didn't matter, we were always content with just being with each other. To us we didn't need those awful people.

We knew that nobody would care if we dropped dead, in fact, I doubt if anyone found us, that they'd even take us back to the village. We had no other friends, nor did we have a family that we knew of. We were truly isolated in the woods, with only each other as our company.

It wasn't so bad, we got to do whatever we desired, live our own lives, with our own rules. For a while we had managed to trick ourselves that we were truly happy, despite our awful living circumstances.

We were starving, had no place to go to. We lived outside in the depths of the woods, fending for ourselves, even though our human bodies were about the age of twelve.

I will never forget the sweet tone of Lukas' voice, the day we nearly lost him. His voice was hoarse, yet he managed to keep his tone a sickening sweet. He would call our names, over and over again, a smile forced upon his pale, and ice cold face.

We thought we had finally lost him, we readied a small ditch, to place his body inside. We couldn't afford much, but we had a nice resting place set up for him. His 'grave' would be surrounded by the most beautiful flowers, underneath a large Picea abies. We'd have his favorite wool blanket, covering his body, and head. And we'd leave gifts for him whenever we were able to gather something of worth.

I remember on that day, Lukas, between his chants of our names, stopped and stared at me. His royal purple eyes, meeting my unworthy blue eyes. We kept eye contact for what felt like hours, I tried to take my eyes away, but I was never able to. He continued to stare at me, before he spoke, in a hoarse, and yet bored voice. "Mathias, do you believe I'll die?"

I froze, unsure of how to respond. Deep down I knew he would die, though I wished otherwise. Should I have lied to him, try to make him believe that he will live? I shook my head, trying to deny the clues that were pointing in the direction of his death. Just for one moment, I wished to fool not only myself, but Lukas as well.

"Then why do you go through such trouble?" I wasn't sure what he had asked, until he said the words. "You dug a ditch, for my 'lifeless' body to lie."

After that, I had convinced Berwald to fill in the ditch we had previously dug out together. It took him until sunset of the next day, to fully fill the hole, and by then, Lukas was regaining his youth.

 **AN: First chapter of this is finally done, I took way too long working on this. I mean honestly, all of that shit, just for this piece of shit? Anyway, I don't own anything, only this story.**


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